


Kid Brother

by lyndysambora



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22896751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyndysambora/pseuds/lyndysambora
Summary: He’swrong. He’s off-limits.And yet…
Relationships: Axl Rose/Steven Adler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Kid Brother

It’s wrong. 

It has to be, right?

The single clarion thought attempts to pierce the Jim Beam haze swirling inside Axl’s head.

_He’s_ wrong. He’s off-limits.

And yet…

There is a throbbing behind the murk of bourbon behind Axl’s eyeballs, other thoughts and ideas trying to surface-- 

_why is he off-limits_

Axl lifts his bottle of Beam up to eye-level to assess its emptiness. Only a few swallows remain of what was, earlier in the evening, a full fifth. Axl doesn’t think he drank it all, but hell, maybe he did. 

Maybe he should.

Steven has been following him around all night. Everywhere Axl goes, there’s Stevie, hanging out, chatting. And, Axl finally figured out, flirting. With _him_. 

The worst part was, it was working.

The handful of times Axl had laid Izzy, he’d had to work for it. Sometimes really hard. He knew Izzy was into it, but Izzy was an asshole that way, and liked the power trip it gave him. Stradlin’s first love was smack, and he could honestly take or leave fucking most of the time. 

Despite having an equal-or-worse smack habit, Stevie was still up to his eyeballs in ass. He was like a teenager. Which might have contributed to Axl’s determination that he was off-limits. He was the kid brother. To all of them. They protected and looked after him. He just wasn’t equal in that way. But tonight…

Tonight he was wearing those ripped up jeans he loved, the ones with the leather flaps that laced together in the front, except the laces were untied and mostly pulled apart, revealing his pubic hair, and occasionally even a bit of his dick. His torn-up tee shirt was short and did nothing to hide the indiscretion, and Axl had had to force his eyes elsewhere on multiple occasions. 

Pure nakedness did nothing for Axl compared to glimpses. He’d seen Steven naked a hundred times, but the _glimpses_ were killing him.

Kid brother, his ass. Adler fucking knew it, too.

Adler _knows_ it. He drops into the sofa next to Axl, throwing a jovial arm around him.

“So what’s on your mind?” he says. 

“Nothing. Fuck off.”

“Aww! Come on! You been sitting there _brooding_ all night,” Steven says, then pulls as serious a face as he can muster-- or what he probably imagines is a serious face-- his bottom lip pokes out in a pout, and his eyebrows knit in faux concentration. “Lighten up.”

“How about you suck my dick, Adler.”

The pouty lips spread into that Cheshire Cat grin and Axl realizes a moment too late that he has swan-dove into the minefield that is Steven Fucking Adler’s side of the court.

“Is that an invitation?” Steven murmurs, low enough that only Axl can hear. Then he laughs like it’s a joke. It could be a joke. But it’s not. Axl knows it’s not. 

Jesus Christ. Fuck this guy.

_kid brother_

“I don’t know,” Axl says, tendrils of heat slithering through his middle, his groin, down his legs. “You offering?”

_no! you can’t do this, he’s off-limits, he’s--_

\--grazing his fucking fingers over the bulge in Axl’s pants, in full view of anyone who happens to look in their direction at that moment, jesus fucking christ--

_the baby of the band_

“I’ve been told I was good at it,” he says. The Cheshire Cat grin again.

Axl squirms out from under his arm and pushes himself away. “What the fuck are you doing?” he demands.

Steven’s eyes are round and genuinely shocked. “What?” he asks. 

“The fuck do you mean, ‘_what’_? You just fucking offered to blow me,” Axl says, lowering his voice at the last, so nobody else would be privy. Then he pauses a moment before adding, “Didn’t you?”

Another smile teases at the corners of Steven’s eyes and mouth, but he seems to be trying to keep a straight face this time.

“Maybe?” he says. 

Axl squints at him, with what he hopes is a fair bit of menace, but the fucker seems unfazed. 

In fact, the fucker stands up and says, “Hey, um, I’m just gonna go hang out in the bedroom for awhile. If you wanna join me, go ahead.”

And then the huge grin.

There are matching rips in the backs of the thighs of Steven’s jeans, just below his ass cheeks, and Axl watches them as the man walks away, wondering how such rips might naturally occur, or if Steven made them on purpose, or what it would be like to bite the slivers of flesh exposed by them.

_no! fucking NO_

“Get back here,” Axl hisses, in a stage whisper that momentarily attracts the attention of Slash who, thank god, has a groupie on his lap and hopefully doesn’t give a shit what Axl is up to.

Steven spins around as he walks, flips a quick bird, and then dips the offending finger deep in his mouth. Pulls it out and smiles pretty before he is turned around, walking away again. 

Glancing around for _anything_, any reason to hold on to his composure and not follow his hard-on directly into the bedroom behind one of the biggest fucking taboos he knows, Axl finds that Slash is still looking at him. 

“The fuck you want?” 

“Do it,” Slash says, then laughs. The woman on his lap is biting his neck and doesn’t give a single fuck what he is saying, or that he’s talking at all. 

“Do what?” Axl demands, then regrets it immediately, for fear the other man will elaborate.

“It’s gonna be fun, man. Guaran-fucking-teed.”

“Fuck off,” Axl says, stalking out of Slash’s immediate area, refusing to even wonder how he knows what is going on-- if the conversation was that loud, or if Steven had fucking _planned_ this shit, and told Slash about it earlier. 

Axl also refuses to wonder how Slash knows it’s a guaranteed good time.

And by the time he is done putting distance between himself and the other man, and putting space between his brain and the thoughts he doesn’t want it to think, he is standing within a few feet of the bedroom he knows Adler occupies. 

Hell, maybe he’ll get lucky, and the guy will already be with a chick or two. Plumb forgot about the offer he made, just that quick.

The idea pisses Axl off.

_fucking hell_

He lets himself into the bedroom.

“Took you long enough, asshole.”

Stevie is sprawled upside down on one of the king beds, his head hanging off the foot end of it. A sudden thought makes him spring up and over onto his belly, and to attention.

“Hey, you ever notice how close _Axl_ and _asshole_ are?”

“Shut _up_,” Axl says. “Jesus Christ, do you ever stop talking?”

“Oh, occasionally,” Steven says. “When my mouth is full.”

Axl slouches. “Whyyy are you doing this to me?”

Sitting up and shrugging, Steven says, “I don’t know. It’s fun. Come over here.”

Axl doesn’t move from the spot he occupies just inside the door. “What’ll happen if I do?”

“Good fucking _god_,” Steven says, climbing off the bed and crossing the room to where Axl stands. “And _I’m_ the one who talks too much?”

He reaches down and undoes the buttons of Axl’s jeans, pulls the zipper down, before Axl can find the voice-- or the interest-- to make him stop. And then his hand is inside, and Adler is too…

what? Brash? Stupid?

to be hesitant, to care what Axl thinks at all, he’s just taking over, the fucking twerp--

and god_damn_ he’s good with his fucking hands, what is he _doing--_

“Stop--” Axl says, because it seems like the thing he’s supposed to say.

“No,” Stevie says.

Axl groans with disapproval and pleasure. 

Steven sinks to his knees. 

It’s not a fun time, like Slash said, it’s fucking incredible--

Axl doubles over, his head swimming with the booze and the gratification of Adler’s mouth, and the other man drags him to the floor. No questions, no preamble. No permission. Axl is vaguely aware that Stevie is laughing, but he tries to ignore it. Who fucking knows what that guy is finding amusing this second and who fucking--

\--cares holy fuck--

Axl sinks his fists into the tangled mass of Adler’s hair as the other man swallows his cock. 

_off-limits_

For all his jokes and easy charm tonight, Steven means business.

_fucking kid brother_

And his business is--

“Stevie--” Axl pants, trying to push the man’s head away.

Steven rolls out another leisurely middle finger and makes a point of nailing Axl with his stare as he sucks him. Axl tries to return the eye contact, to glare even, but he’s losing, and fucking Adler pulls off his dick just long enough to suck a little on the middle finger he’s offered--

“Oh no,” Axl says, “Fuck no.”

But just the thought has him careening toward climax, 

_the fucking baby_

Stevie of all people getting ready to just nail him where he lies with no fucking permission except the fact that Axl followed him here and can’t make him stop--

Axl comes hard into the recesses of Adler’s mouth before the other man even has a chance to use his hand.

_who’s the kid now_

Steven laughs again, and this time Axl does have an idea what the guy finds amusing, but he says nothing, lets the guy have it. He fucking won it fair and square.

**END**


End file.
